Equinox
by HappyChaos3D
Summary: In the middle of a difficult hunt, Dean catches a nasty case of the flu which is bad enough until it turns into something more serious.  Just when they thought their luck couldn't get much worse... hurt!sick!captive!Dean, caring!hero!hurt!Sam.
1. Luck of the Winchesters

A/N I wrote most of this last year but I never posted it because of the timing (I wanted to post it around the time its set). Believe me, I have tons of stuff on my computer waiting to be finished and/or posted. My muse has taken a vow of silence the last few weeks since my mom got sick and passed away and I haven't been able to write anything - just writing one coherent sentence has been a challenge lately. I hope that the writing bug will bite soon and when it does you'll see updates for my other stories, I swear. I know I should update my other stories before starting a new one but to be honest, I'm posting this now because I'm hoping that I'll regain that creative spark that I've lost and comments from you lovely people are inspiring and encouraging.

This one is my attempt at less angst more humor, or at least its a more lighthearted style than I usually have. But there will be angst and hurt/comfort aplenty because, c'mon, this is me we're talking about. This one isn't set in any particular season but to me it feels like it belongs in the earlier, pre-Hell seasons just based on how Sam and Dean's relationship is portrayed. I'm thinking season 2 but it's really up to you.

"Supernatural" isn't mine. If it were Sam would've had his soul since the very beginning of season 6 and that brotherly bond we love so much would've been there rebuilding from the first episode of the season. I'm still hating this season but at least it's starting to get better now that Sammy's back. Here's hoping it redeems itself in the next few remaining episodes.

Without further ado, enjoy!

* * *

**Equinox**

**by Deana W.**

March 17

Dean had been looking forward to St. Patty's and his reason could be summed up in two words: Green Beer. He enjoyed dressing up in green, wearing his "Kiss Me, I'm Irish" pin on his jacket even though he wasn't really sure if he was of Irish decent or not. But of course, on St. Patty's day, everyone was Irish and the girls… especially the girls sloshed on green beer, _loved_ to take his pin seriously. Very seriously.

This year Dean planned to enjoy it. And by enjoy it he meant hanging his 'LUCK OF THE IRISH' tie on the doorknob. Sam could find his own luck.

But life had other plans when Dean woke up with a throat that felt like he spent the night swallowing flaming swords. Everything ached and the strange feeling of being both too hot and too cold indicated that he had a fever too.

"102.2, actually," Sam announced, pulling out the digital thermometer from his brother's mouth. "You're staying in today."

"But it's St. Patty's day!" he exclaimed hoarsely, a childish pout on his lips. He was still mad that Sam managed to force Dean into letting him take his temperature in the first place. He really should've gargled with salt water or something before saying a word, but the scratchy sound of his voice and the stiff way he walked to the bathroom that morning had been a dead giveaway.

"Yeah and we're also on the middle of a hunt," Sam huffed, "need you top of your game, Dean."

"I'm fine," he rasped.

"Sure you are," Sam rolled his eyes.

"Hey that temp doesn't count," Dean wheezed, "it was compromised because of… physical excursion."

Sam could almost feel a headache coming on. OK, granted Sam did have to practically wrestle his brother to the ground before getting him to comply with having his temperature taken, but that was ridiculous. "Maybe, but not that much."

"I demand a retake!"

"Dean…"

"Retake!"

"Dean? Why is it that whenever you're sick you suddenly revert to that of a four year old?"

Dean shrugged.

"No we're not going to retake your temperature."

"Retake or we're just going to have to assume that my—(cough)—temperature is actually normal and that I'm fine."

"Fine," Sam handed Dean the thermometer and even though Dean obnoxiously pulled it out before it beeped it still managed to say 101.7. Sam rolled his eyes as Dean held it up and smirked, "See?"

"It didn't beep yet!"

"101, that's nothing," Dean declared, ignoring Sam's argument completely.

"No, it's not. 101 is still high and…," realizing how ridiculous their argument was becoming Sam gave a weary sigh, "just stop acting like such a baby, you need to stay in today and get some rest, Dean."

"But I'm fi—" he couldn't finish his sentence because a dry cough suddenly erupted from his throat and he doubled over until it passed. "That cough doesn't mean—(cough, cough)—anything."

"Ri-ight," Sam sighed, shaking his head. "If you were fine Dean, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now because knowing you I probably wouldn't have known you were sick until at least later this evening. Either you're _really_ sick, therefore need to _rest_, or you're losing your touch dude because I saw right through you from the very beginning."

"Bitch," Dean muttered.

"Jerk," Sam replied with a grin, "And stop talking, you need to save your voice. I don't want to have to recite the entire incantation all by myself."

"Oh whatever there's still a few more days 'til spring," Dean waved him off and fell back on the bed with a sigh, and then rolled over to cough miserably.

"Don't want to take any chances," Sam pointed out and he gave Dean a meaningful look that told Dean that he wasn't just talking about the hunt.

Rolling his eyes Dean coughed and sat back up, swayed a little bit from dizziness and said, "Fine. I'll rest up. Want to be in good shape for tonight anyway."

"You're not going out tonight!" Sam exclaimed.

"What are you, my mom?"

"Save your voice," Sam sighed, "And you're not going out. Do you really want to spread your germs to some unsuspecting girl?"

Dean would've replied but another dry coughing fit interrupted whatever witty retort he might've had.

Sam patted his shoulder, "Go back to bed, dude. I'm going to get some breakfast and I'll stop by the drug store on my way back. Anything specific you want?"

"Coffee sounds good," Dean's voice kind of flickered in and out as he spoke.

"No. No coffee," Sam decided, "You know that's a bad idea. Come on Dean, be serious, what do you want."

"Coff—(cough, cough)—ee."

"Orange juice it is," Sam grinned, snatching the keys and heading out the door before Dean could protest.

When Sam returned to the motel, Dean was sound asleep, but he wasn't very settled into his bed like Sam told him to do. He found him on top of the covers, fully dressed leaning against the headboard with his head tilted at an awkward angle. It was as if he just passed out while watching TV, which was probably what he did.

Sam chuckled to himself as he set down his coffee and the white plastic bag with all the stuff from the drug store Dean would need. He reached and touched his brother's forehead, frowned at the heat and lack of response from his brother who would normally bat him away in a huff of irritation. Sighing softly Sam moved to the TV and turned it off.

"I was watching that."

The rough, barely there voice startled him and Sam turned to see his brother slowly blink his eyes open. "Yeah? OK what were you watching?"

"_American Choppers_," Dean replied.

"Really? Oh, OK my mistake," Sam conceded, "Funny, I always thought that show was supposed to be about mororcyles and stuff and not two people giving a fashionably challenged person a makeover and new wardrobe." Dean blinked one eye open to give Sam a glare. "Because that was the show I just turned off."

Dean scrunched his eyes shut and sighed, finishing the sigh with a strained cough.

"How are you feeling?"

"Peachy," he replied hoarsely.

"Save your voice," Sam ordered.

"Then stop asking me—(cough)—questions!"

"Would it kill you to nod or shake your head?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"You're acting like a baby, you know that?"

"I think I'm adorable and I'm…" he sneezed this time, just to shake things up apparently and the sneeze turned into another cough and a poorly concealed wince as Dean unconsciously rubbed his throat, "I'm actually feeling much better." The last sentence was so strained and scratchy that Sam had to strain just to hear him.

"Liar," Sam handed him the bag from the drug store, "you're so not going anywhere tonight, and probably not tomorrow so you may as well just get some sleep. I don't even know why you bothered to get dressed."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be heading to the library for some research," Sam said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Where's mine?" Dean asked, gesturing to the coffee that he knew Sam only had to annoy him.

Sam gave him a look that said, 'you're impossible' and grabbed the bag from Dean's hands and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, "Right here. And I got some Buckley's and Halls and some Tylenol and some Zinc Lozenges and a little something extra so the invalid won't be bored lying around all day." He pulled out a skin magazine, complete with a St. Patrick's Day theme on the cover where the well endowed model was posing wearing nothing but two strategically placed shamrocks.

Grabbing the magazine Dean grinned, "Thanks dude, you've almost redeemed yourself for the coffee thing!"

"But first, rest Dean. Seriously you need it. You look like crap. Actually I think crap looks better than you right now."

Dean flipped him the bird as he flipped idly through the magazine.

"OK, so I'll be at the library doing some research and maybe if you feel up to it later you can look through the notes we've already found, maybe we missed something and..." Sam resisted the urge to feel Dean's forehead but he already knew Dean was burning up just by looking at him so he figured he was better off picking his battles wisely, knowing that Dean would just fight him if he tried. "You need to take some Tylenol. Hang on," he disappeared into the bathroom and reappeared with a glass of water, "take that and take care of yourself."

Sam waited until Dean took the Tylenol like a good boy and handed him the Buckley's and waited expectantly. He knew Dean wouldn't take it on his own, the stuff tasted awful, but it worked so he wanted to make sure he took it. Dean glared at him and started to say something but this time no noise came out… unless the pathetic squeak that was so tiny a mouse could do better, counted as anything. He tried to clear his throat but that only led to a small coughing fit but the next time he tried to speak was met with some success, albeit scratchy. "Don't you have some research to get to Florence?"

"Call me if you need anything," Sam said.

Dean gave him the thumbs up, knowing that his voice was reaching the last of its endurance.

Sam grinned and disappeared out the door.

Putting down the Buckley's without even bothering to take any he popped a Halls in his mouth and slowly, achingly removed his jeans and settled in bed. He really was feeling like crap. Maybe some actual rest would do him good. Sam was right, they were in the midst of a hunt and he needed to be on top of his game. So much for St. Patty's Day though.

Damn. And he was really looking forward to it.

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.


	2. Hurry Up and Wait

A/N sorry for the delay. I blame RL. Thanks to those who read and reviewed the first chapter and a special thanks to the kind words of comfort and sympathy. My muse is still MIA since mom's passing, this is only possible because a big chunk of it was written already last year. Anyway, hopefully my muse will come out of hiding soon. Writing's my biggest outlet when the world gets me down, so if it wasn't for the stupid grief enduced writer's block and lack of time I should in theory have updated everything by now. But as some kind people have said, I just need to give it time. Anyway, I'm babbling and I'm sure you'd rather read the story. Here's the next chapter, enjoy!

* * *

The next day wasn't much better. Actually, it was worse.

Dean's voice was completely gone, his fever had gone up and it was all he could do just to stay awake. Sam was doing most of the work prepping for the hunt, Dean tried to help as best he could but it was hard to be productive when his head felt like it was about to explode, his throat felt like he had been eating thumbtacks all day and he somehow developed narcolepsy thanks to the exhaustion of illness and the 'may cause drowsiness' side-effects of his medications. As they poured over research Dean drifted in and out of consciousness, only managing to read one paragraph of one of the many books Sam found. And he read the same one over and over every time he managed to pry his eyes open again.

"Dude, go back to bed," Sam rolled his eyes, his eyebrows raising in concerned amusement as he watched his brother try to stay awake as they went over their notes.

"I'm good," Dean whispered hoarsely.

"And whispering is probably the worst thing you can do for your voice right now…"

"It's the only way I can get—(cough, cough, hack, cough)—any s-sound out…" he continued weakly, blinking his eyes heavily.

"Well stop trying to talk," Sam sighed, "go back to bed. I can handle this from here."

As a testament to how crappy he felt, Dean acquiesced without much else in the way of protest. Slowly, achingly he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled towards his bed. He stopped halfway and stood there for a moment swaying, as though he forgot why he stood up in the first place. Sam watched him carefully, wondering what he was doing. He took one more step and his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the edge of the bed, nearly missing it completely - not that it mattered because all that managed to do was slow his decent to the floor. He slid off the bed and landed on his ass, a confused look on his face.

Sam jumped to his feet and moved to his brother's side as Dean leaned his head back against the bed and closed his eyes, deciding the edge of the mattress worked just fine as a pillow. "You OK?"

Without opening his eyes he gave Sam the thumb's up sign.

"Right," Sam rolled his eyes as he bent down low, slung Dean's arm over his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Once vertical Dean nearly lost his balance and fell over again but Sam held him upright until Dean was more or less steady and all Sam had to do was guide him to the bed. Dean flopped unceremoniously into the messy bed and tried weakly to untangle himself from the covers until Sam pulled them out from under him and tucked them around his sick brother. He brushed the back of his hand against his forehead and frowned.

Dean closed his eyes in exhaustion, apparently not noticing the forehead touching thing that always irritated him but he opened them again and frowned indignantly when Sam stuck the thermometer between his lips.

"102.9," Sam murmured, "Damn. It's going up."

"Mmm…"

"You should take more Tylenol and Dean, you're not going to like this but I really think it's time you see a doctor."

Dean shook his head wearily.

"You stubborn jerk, this is getting serious here," Sam sighed.

"I'll be f-fine in t-time for the h-hunt," Dean whispered, shivering under his covers.

"At this point I don't give a rat's ass about the hunt," Sam stated, "and stop trying to talk! Jeez Dean, you've got strep or laryngitis or something and that needs antibiotics and if it spreads to your lungs you could get pneumonia or…"

Dean waved his hands in a placating gesture with a look on his face that said, 'I get it, I get it' and snuggled down deeper under the covers, trembling with chills.

"So you'll go?"

Wearily he shook his head.

"Dean!"

"Give it—(cough, wheeze, cough)—another d-day," he shuddered.

"Fine. But if your damn fever climbs or you start having trouble breathing or anything we're going in today, even if it means going to the ER," Sam promised, though to Dean it was more of a threat.

Dean gave him the thumbs up and closed his eyes drifting easily towards sleep.

Sam interrupted his slumber before he could have a chance to fall into a deep sleep though to give him his Tylenol and a spoonful of Buckley's. Dean opened his eyes and glared daggers at Sam when he saw the spoonful of cough medicine. He was an adult and he was perfectly capable of pouring the damn syrup onto a friggin' spoon. Of course being capable of taking it himself didn't mean he would bother with that shit, but that was probably one of the reasons he was now too sick to put up a fight when Sam decided that if Dean wasn't going to bother taking his medicine, he'd give it to him himself.

He opened his mouth to protest being treated like an invalid, no voice be damned, but Sam used that as an opportunity to thrust the spoon into his mouth. Dean gagged a bit, but swallowed the offensively tasting stuff and then flipped his middle finger up at his brother.

"You're welcome," Sam grinned.

Dean just glared at him and didn't take his irritated eyes off him as he took his Tylenol.

"You know not taking this stuff would just guarantee that you won't start feeling better, you know that right?" Sam asked him. Dean just sighed and tilted his head back into the pillow, silently admitting defeat. "I don't know what your deal is dude, but I've seen little kids take their medicine with more dignity than you."

Flipping the bird at his brother one more time Dean rolled over and closed his eyes. Sam chuckled and tucked the covers around him, "Sleep. I'll be working on this research."

Dean nodded and did just that.

* * *

As far as hunts go, Sam hated dealing with cults, especially cults with demons at the helm. From what he and Dean could gather, most, if not all of the cult elders were actually demon possessed though most members of the 'Fellowship' had no idea. Before he woke up with the flu or whatever it was, Dean talked to some former cult members and from that they had a pretty good idea of what they were up to. They were planning to offer up a sacrifice to a pagan god on the Equinox as part of some sort of ritual. They still weren't entirely sure of what they were planning to do but one thing was for certain, if they finished the ritual it would be bad. Very bad. And not just for whomever they planned to sacrifice.

Dean had a theory that the demons were trying to curse the land with drought, decay and disease and Sam agreed despite every member they spoke to insisted the ritual was to bring prosperity and growth with the coming spring. Of course everyone they spoke to insisted there was no real sacrifice involved and they both suspected that some knew but flat out denied it and that some of them were so naïve they had no idea what they were getting themselves into.

Sam flipped through his and Dean's notes and then frowned when Dean began to get restless in his sleep. He moaned a few times, faintly and weakly as he began to toss and turn, his breath strained and wheezy. Sam furrowed his brow in worry. This flu hit Dean hard and fast and it was definitely cause for concern. Dean never did things halfway, and that included getting sick. The timing couldn't get much worse considering what they were dealing with. This cult might have once upon a time been an innocent group of pagans, but now with some demons in charge they were dangerous and Sam could only hope that they'll never find out what kind of damage they could cause should their ritual succeed.

The thing that bothered Sam most about it was that the ritual had already started so even if they knew who exactly were the threats in the group, and knew precicely what they needed to do, there wasn't much they could do until the Equinox when the cult leaders reached the end of the ritual. Only then could they successfully read the incantation that would counteract the ritual and hopefully exorcise the demons. Not being able to take action made Sam antsy, Dean too though he'd never admit it. One of the reasons he was looking forward to St. Patrick's Day was to get his mind off the hunt that was beginning to stress him out. There really wasn't much to do but hurry up and wait and Dean was never good with waiting.

At least Sam had time to research. There were some things that they still needed to sort out like who was the intended sacrifice, was it one of the members? A random stranger? Where was this ritual taking place? How many cult members were there? How many were possessed and/or posed as threats? Did they even have the right incantation? They needed to be fully prepared going in because there was little to no room for error. Plus Sam had a chance to come up with a Plan 'B' if the first plan didn't work. It wasn't very often when they had the opportunity to check and double check their work so there was a plus side to it. But still, with Dean out for the count with the flu or whatever it was...unless Dean could get miraculously healthy in two days, they were screwed without help.

Sam frowned and grabbed his phone and called Bobby. Bobby would help without question if he could. He hung up with a curse though when there was no answer and the mailbox was full on his voicemail. "Clean out your damn mailbox Bobby," he grumbled under his breath.

Dean started to cough again. The sound made Sam's own chest and throat hurt in sympathy. He climbed out of his chair and felt his brother's forehead and his frowned only deepened at the heat coming from his skin and the tremor that shook his body as he shivered at Sam's touch.

"Hey, time to take more meds," Sam murmured, nudging him. Dean only groaned. Sam tried again louder this time, "Dean!"

Dean startled awake, clumsily striking air with his fist, "Wh—(cough, cough, hack), sh-shit," he choked hoarsely with his barely there voice just before breaking into a violent coughing fit that had him quickly sitting up and doubling over.

"Damn it," Sam hissed in sympathy as he rubbed his brother's sweaty back, "Dean, you really need a doctor."

Dean shook his head, even as he was hacking up a lung, face beet red and tears spilling from his eyes, in obvious pain and misery.

"This is serious!"

As he continued to cough and choke Dean still shook his head.

"We've got today and tomorrow to prep for this ritual and with you sick as you are, damn it, this is a two man job at least and I can't do this myself. I need you to watch my back and how are you supposed to watch my back with you sick like this?" Sam lectured angrily, even as he gently patted Dean's back as the coughing fit started to ease.

Dean leaned forward, elbows on knees, face resting in hands as though his head was too heavy to hold up as he fought to catch his breath. He tilted his head to face Sam through exhausted, dark-lidded eyes, "C-can't," he whispered breathlessly, his voice barely there.

"And why the hell not?" Sam demanded.

Dean just shook his head, too drained to commit to anything else as an argument.

"Fine," Sam huffed, "but if you…damn it, fine. I'll wait a little longer, but don't expect any sympathy from me when you end up in the hospital with pneumonia or something just as serious. I think you need heavy antibiotics."

"Just a cold Sam," Dean whispered so faintly Sam could barely hear him.

"Just a cold?"

"OK, flu," he conceded with a weary smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Maybe, but even if it is 'just the flu', it's serious."

Dean winced as he stiffly reached over for the Tylenol and popped one of the gel tablets into his mouth and dry swallowed, "Give this a chance to kick in first."

"You know that stuff only treats the symptoms, not cure the problem," Sam stated, "if you have an infection going on somewhere inside then Tylenol's gonna do jack shit. I really think you should get some real medicine in you before this gets out of control, if it hasn't already."

Dean just looked at him, pleadingly, pathetically and Sam sighed, "All right," he raised his hands in surrender, "not like I can force you to go or anything. But you know we can't afford to have a man down, right?"

"Got t-two more days, I'll be (cough) fine," Dean whispered hoarsely, wincing and massaging his throat as he did so.

"Right," Sam sighed sceptically. "Now stop talking and get some more rest or there's no way you're going to be well enough in time."

Feeling miserable, Dean nodded as he grabbed a Halls cough drop and popped it in his mouth as he rolled over and pulled the covers over his head.

"I'm going to try and call Bobby again," Sam said, "Maybe he can help us." Dean stuck his hand out from under the covers to give him the thumbs up, Sam chuckled at that and continued, "I'm going to get supper, want anything? Soup maybe?"

Dean poked his head out from under the covers, "Burger, extra onion and fries with coffee." His voice was so soft and scratchy he may as well have mouthed the words.

"Chicken noodle soup and orange juice it is," Sam shook his head and Dean stuck his tongue out. Raising a brow Sam deadpanned, "Seriously Dean? You know you're being a baby." Dean raised his middle finger and rolling his eyes Sam returned the gesture as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

Dean watched him leave with a grin before breaking out into another coughing fit. The coughs came faster than he could breathe and when it was over he was dizzy and spent. Reaching for the thermometer Dean was dismayed to see his fever was still climbing, not by much, but enough to warrant the genuine worry from his little brother. Hell, it worried him, too. Maybe he should've let Sam take him to the doctor, even though they really couldn't afford the cost or the risk. But at this point could they afford not to? Looking at the number on the thermometer he decided that if it didn't go down by the time Sam came back he'd just bite the bullet and go. He was glad that Sam was going to call Bobby though because even if he was well enough on time, there was no way he'd be operating at 100% and they could use the back up anyway.

_Man,_ he thought, _being sick sucks._

Deciding to get a glass of water Dean stood up and promptly fell back down when the room spun before flashing white then black. The next thing he knew he was lying awkwardly on his back on the bed, needing to cough out the fire that was spreading from his throat and down into his chest.

At the back of his mind Dean wondered if he actually passed out or fell asleep and wondered how long he was out for and was thankful that Sam wasn't around to see it. However Dean was too focused on choking and trying to catch his breath at the same time to dwell on it all. Maybe later. Desperately he sat up and leaned forward as he coughed into his fisted hand, his other hand grasping the nightstand just to keep him upright. Stuff started coming up and he grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and spit into it, eyes widening in alarm at the yellow phlegm mixed with blood.

The coughing abated some and he gasped for air like a fish out of water, vaguely aware of the door opening. Stars flashed in his vision and without looking up he choked out weakly, "Sam—(cough, choke, wheeze, gasp)—you're r-right about the—(cough)—doctor."

He closed his eyes and started coughing again, feeling tears well up in his eyes and his consciousness start to slip. He could feel a hand on his shoulder holding him steady and another on his knee and if he weren't so focused on breathing and coughing and trying not to pass out again he might've noticed something off about the touch. It didn't matter though because when he opened his eyes the first thing he noticed was the tattoo on the hand that was resting on his knee. He blinked in confusion because it was the same tattoo that the elders of this cult they were investigating all had.

It dawned on him a split second too late and he whipped his head up, catching sight of the man leaning over him grinning. He managed to get one swing in, throwing his fist up and striking the man in the jaw in self defence before his body betrayed him and the stars in his line of sight exploded, plunging him into darkness.

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading, now please let me know what you think! I'm aiming to have part three up in a couple of days. I just need to tweak it a bit here and there.


	3. The Chosen One

A/N Am I the only one who keeps getting an error message when trying to edit a story? Anyway, site willing, here's the next chapter. I'm sorry for the evil cliffie last chapter and I hope I didn't leave you waiting too long. Thanks again to all who have read and reviewed. A special thanks to those who have given me such kind words of comfort. It means a lot to me.

For those who are like me and need to know these things, I know I said in chapter one that this could be set in pretty much any season, but now that I think about it, it kinda has to be set in season 2. I don't know, it might not matter but even though I may not directly refer to any particular storyarc in the series, I think it helps to know where the brothers are and where they have been. Of course, that might just be me.

Anyway, without further ado,

Enjoy!

* * *

The air was chilly and a light breeze and gentle flurries bit at Sam's cheeks as he walked the short distance to the diner next door to the hotel. On the way he pulled out his phone to try calling Bobby again and frowned when it cut to the digital announcement that his inbox was full. He shivered once, nearly slipping on some ice before heading inside musing quietly to himself that while it might almost be spring, it sure still felt like winter.

As he walked in the bell on the door announced his presence and the waitress, Vivian, looked up and flashed him a bright smile. "Hi Sam! How are you doing today?" she greeted warmly, grabbing a menu from the stand by the cashier counter.

Sam grinned and returned the greeting as he sat down in a booth.

"So, where's your brother hun?" Vivian asked, placing the menu down in front of him, glancing at the door with anticipation even as she tried not to look too interested in seeing him.

Sam saw the expectant look and chuckled, knowing how much Dean managed to charm the woman when they first pulled into town. He had the middle aged waitress blushing and giggling like a school girl during that first visit to the diner and managed to charm lots of information out of her—more than they expected. She used to be a member of this cult they were after, but she had quit a few months ago because she didn't like the changes they had made and still had no idea of how dangerous the group had become. She had scoffed at Dean's suggestion that it was a cult, unable to, or unwilling to accept that it was a possibility. But with a cool smirk and a few placating words topped off with a flattering compliment Dean had her eating out of his hand again.

Before he got sick Sam had teased him about being cougar bait to which Dean had replied that no woman could resist his charms. When Sam started listing the women he could think of that weren't enamoured by his charming self, Dean had abruptly ended the conversation and had unknowingly created more fodder for future teasing.

"He's back at the motel," Sam replied, "he's got the flu or something."

Her face fell a moment and Sam couldn't help but be amused by that and then she quickly recovered, "Well, that's too bad. You know, I thought he looked a little under the weather the other day."

For some reason Sam couldn't quite explain Sam took offence to that, probably because he hadn't noticed until yesterday when there was no hiding it and here a relative stranger apparently noticed? "You thought so?" he frowned.

"Honey, I've got three kids, you start to get an inkling for that sort of thing," she pat him on the shoulder. "Now, what can I start you off with?"

"Coffee," Sam replied, glancing out the window at the hotel, worry for his brother creeping into his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. Dean was in bad shape when he left, and no matter how much Dean had tried to downplay it lest he make Sam worry, Sam knew it was bad. Just, _how_ bad he wasn't quite sure but definitely bad enough to warrant a doctor's visit which said a lot considering how risky it was for them with their lifestyle and wanted status. Whether Dean liked it or not, Dean was his brother so Sam couldn't help but worry. "Uh, could you make that to go?" he asked, deciding that with Dean as sick as he was, he didn't want to be separated from him any longer than he needed to.

"Sure thing hun," Vivian said, also looking out the window for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. She quickly perked up, her posture straightening and a smile crossing her lips.

"And maybe some orange juice," Sam added, "For my brother."

"Of course," Vivian nodded, "I'll get one for you too. You could probably also use the vitamin C, don't want you to get sick too, right?"

Sam smiled, "No ma'am, uh, thanks."

"Do you know what you want yet?"

"Do you have chicken noodle soup?"

Vivian shook her head, "No, but we do have chicken and wild rice."

"OK, I'll order that for Dean. To go."

"Of course. Do you need another minute to decide for yourself?"

Sam looked out the window again and frowned, an uneasy feeling gnawing at his gut, "I think I'll have a BLT with fries."

"White or whole wheat?"

"Whole wheat please. Do you think you could put a rush on that?"

"Sure thing, hun," Vivian smiled brightly. "Worried about your brother, huh?"

Sam nodded.

Vivian patted his shoulder, "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." With that she grabbed his menu and headed for the cash register. Sam watched her a moment as she entered his order into the computer. The diner phone rang and she picked up the phone, turning her back to him.

Idly Sam pulled out his phone and looked out the window again. A large semi pulled into the lot, blocking his view of the hotel and for some reason that caused the uneasiness growing inside him to spike for a moment before he took a deep breath and reminded himself that Dean would be fine on his own for fifteen minutes. It helped, but not by much. Living the life of a hunter taught him many things, and one of them was that anything could happen in fifteen minutes. Sam sometimes resented the paranoia that all hunters seemed to possess, but it had saved his life on more than one occasion.

He glanced up at Vivian who was still on the phone, her back to him; she briefly turned her head towards him. They made eye contact for a split second before she startled slightly and smiled at him, quickly turning away again. Sam narrowed his eyes and tilted his head in curiosity, wondering about her change in demeanour. But when she hung up the phone she smiled at him again, returning with the coffee pot. She poured it into the ceramic mug on the table and Sam nodded in thanks before he realized it was the wrong cup.

"I ordered it to go," Sam corrected her.

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Vivian smiled, looking a little distracted, "I'll take care of that when your food is ready. How's that?"

"Sure," Sam said about to ask if she was OK when she quickly left to take care of other customers.

Holding his phone in his hand Sam tried to call Bobby again. No answer. He cursed under his breath but nearly jumped when his phone suddenly rang. The display said that it was Bobby calling and Sam rolled his eyes, sighing with relief as he answered.

"Bobby! Hey."

"_Hi Sam, saw you've been trying to call me. What's going on?_"

"How's it going, Bobby?" Sam asked, feeling his anxiety melt away at the sound of the older man's voice.

"_Fine,_" Bobby said carefully, _"You?_"

"Uh…"

Sam heard a long suffering sigh before Bobby spoke, "_What kind of trouble did you idjits get into this time_?"

Sam couldn't help but snort in amusement, he could practically hear Bobby's eyes rolling, "None yet. Well… OK actually uh… it's Dean…"

"_What's wrong_?"

"He can't talk."

"_So what'd he do? Piss off a witch? Or did a witch owe you a favour_?" Bobby asked, sensing the worry in Sam's voice, despite the fact he sounded fine.

Sam chuckled quietly, "Maybe the latter, I'm not sure. I think he's got laryngitis or something, I don't know…either way he's really sick. Are you busy right now? Because we're on this hunt and I really could use the help right now since Dean's a little out of commission."

"_Sure, you know I'm always on standby ready to be your one man b-team_," Bobby joked, "_that's me, on call for the Winchesters, 24/7_."

"I get it, I get it," Sam chuckled, "sorry I know we've been bugging you a lot lately…"

"_Sam_," Bobby's voice was serious this time, "_I kid but you know I'm always here for you two idjits. Someone needs to look out for you two. I've actually just wrapped up a hunt right now. Just tell me where you are and I'll get there as soon as I can_."

Sam told him and quickly and quietly debriefed him on the cult they were investigating and the timeline they were dealing with.

"_The Equinox is just a couple of days away_," Bobby mused. Sam could hear him thinking the way he breathed wearily, "_I'll try to be there by tomorrow night. It's a long drive_."

"Thanks man, I owe ya one," Sam said.

"_Just one huh_?"

"OK so our I.O.U.'s are piling up, but you know what I mean," Sam snorted. "Take care and drive safe. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Yep. Oh and Sam, you should probably be taking some echinacea and vitamin C or something_," Bobby said, "_I do not want to get there and find two sick Winchesters on my hands_."

"One step ahead of you," Sam snickered, "Dean's enough of a handful as it is."

"_That bad huh_?"

Sam let out a breath. "He's in rough shape. I had to force feed him his meds and he didn't even have it in him to put up a fight," Sam told him quietly.

"_Damn, that_ is _bad_. _You get him to a doctor_ _yet_?" Bobby asked, knowing that if Dean wasn't fighting his brother's mother-henning then it was bad enough that he needed one.

"Tomorrow, whether he likes it or not. I might take him in tonight if his fever goes up or if any of his symptoms get worse," Sam sighed worriedly. "To be honest, I'm beginning to think whatever this is is starting to turn into pneumonia or something."

"_Your brother doesn't do anything half way, does he?_"

"No he doesn't," Sam murmured in response. He glanced up at Vivian who was helping another table. She looked his way and there was an expression on her face that seemed off. Of course Sam only knew her for a few days, but it was a look he hadn't seen before on her. Fear. It was hidden behind her friendly smile but he could see it, his training as a hunter made it clear as day. Suddenly Sam's uneasiness slammed back into him despite the reassuring presence of Bobby on the phone.

"_If I were you, I'd take him to see a doctor tonight. From what you're telling me and what we know about Dean, you really should, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. I know it's a risk for you boys but if you need to, use my last name," _Bobby offered.

"Thanks Bobby, I think I will," Sam replied distantly.

Bobby could hear a change in Sam's voice, _"Sam? You OK?_"

"Yeah," Sam said, "I'm fine. Uh, I should go. I'll call you later, keep you updated."

"_Sounds good, Sam,_" Bobby said.

"Oh and empty your voicemail," Sam added, watching Vivian carefully. She scribbled something on the note pad in her apron pocket, glancing his way again as she took the other table's order. It was the first time Sam had seen the waitress using the note pad to take an order. An experienced waitress like Vivian didn't need one, certainly not for a table of two.

"_Hey, it's not my fault I've been where there was no service for a week and apparently everyone and their dog wanted to get a hold of me,_" Bobby said in mock defence. His tone sobered, "_Take care, Sam. And take care of that idjit brother of yours. I'll talk to you later and see you tomorrow._"

"Thanks Bobby," Sam said, ending the phone call, watching Vivian head behind the counter and pour his coffee into a styrofoam cup.

"So who were you talking to?" Vivian asked politely, handing him his coffee and a napkin on the table in front of him, her hands trembling slightly.

"Just a friend," Sam replied. Vivian's eyes moved to the napkin and then looked pointedly at him, her smile never fading. Sam looked down and saw a note lying on top of it.

_Act normal,_ the note said, _I think we're being watched. You're in danger. They want me to stall you. Get out of here._

Sam's eyes darted up to meet hers, "Thanks," Sam said, his voice and demeanour never wavering despite his sudden panic, "Hey, hold on to these, I left my uh, wallet at the motel. I'll be back."

"That's all right," Vivian said shakily, "I can start a tab for you if you'd like."

"No thanks," Sam smiled at her, "I'd rather get it over with. Thank you." He stood up and brushed past her as he headed out the door.

"Wait!" She called, but Sam ignored her, knowing he needed to, knowing that she was only calling him back because she was supposed to. He didn't know what was going on or what she knew, but he wasn't about to argue. He'd talk to her later, when it was apparently safe. He jogged outside, the cold air biting at his cheeks. He ran around the semi that had blocked his view and as soon as he saw the motel he reached into the waistband of his jeans and pulled out his gun at the sight that greeted him.

There was a black car parked in front of their motel room door which was wide open. Two figures stood by the door and a third came out, a limp figure slung over his shoulder.

"Dean," Sam whispered, he ran towards them, aiming his gun at the one holding his unconscious brother, "Let him go!" he demanded.

The three men seemed undeterred by Sam and the gun that was aimed at them. Other than sparing him a glance, they seemed to ignore him.

"What did you do to him?" Sam hissed.

The one holding Dean's unconscious body over his shoulder opened the trunk and casually tossed him in as though he weighed nothing before slamming the trunk door shut. Sam adjusted his aim and was about to shoot when the gun was pulled from Sam's grip, flying into the man's awaiting hand as his eyes flashed black.

"We didn't do anything to him, Sam," he said with a smile, "he barely even began to put up a fight before he fainted like a girl. He did that on his own."

"H-how? How did you do that?" one of the others asked, pointing at the gun that had flown into the demon's hand.

"The gods have graced me with a gift, and soon you too will be blessed," the man said, his eyes returning to their normal colour as he turned to his follower, placing his free hand on the other man's head.

"When?"

"Patience, Brother Stephan. Have faith, follow the commands as it was written and prove your worth. If you pass the test and prove your faithfulness, the gods will reward you."

Sam charged at them angrily, "Let my brother go!"

The demon raised his hand and Sam was flung against the wall. He grunted in pain as the wind was knocked out of him and his head slammed against the brick wall.

"What do you want with us? With my brother?"

The demon walked up to him leaned in close and smiled, "You, you come here, asking questions, spreading lies. You seek to destroy us but you do not understand. But soon, you will see. You of little faith, take comfort, for your brother's sacrifice will be your reward and a blessing to us all."

Sam's eyes widened, "You bastard! If you hurt a hair on his head I will kill you. All of you!"

Stephan approached him earnestly, "Don't you see? Your brother has been blessed. He has been chosen. The gods have seen his suffering, his disease and have chosen him! It has been written that his suffering will bring the end to ours; his blood will enrich the land and give us peace and prosperity. The gods will reward his suffering and sacrifice with riches beyond our imagination in the hereafter! It is an honour and a gift to be chosen for such a task."

"Are you _nuts_?" Sam hissed, "You really believe that?"

"It has been written," the demon smirked.

"Where?" Sam demanded angrily, glancing at the other two, "Just listen to what you're saying! Think about what you're _doing_! Do you really believe this guy?"

"We have seen with our own eyes the blessing the gods have bestowed upon our elders," the other one said. "How can you not believe when you too have seen the powers the gods have given our brother? You cannot move for he is using them on you as we speak."

"He's possessed you idiot!" Sam snapped. "He's a fucking demon!"

"You of little faith," the demon grinned, "my brothers, get in the car and give thanks to the gods for leading us to the chosen one and for giving me the strength to protect us from our enemy. I'll be there shortly."

The others nodded and climbed into the car.

The demon turned to Sam who struggled against his invisible bonds, his smile changed into something sinister, "I should like to tear your guts out for that," he hissed, "let you see what your insides look like before you die."

Sam held his ground as he struggled, determined not to show the demon any fear.

"Lucky for you, those fools don't believe you and are open to believing anything that comes out of my mouth. Besides, my boss has special plans for you Sam," he added.

"What plans?" Sam demanded.

The demon tilted his head, "Apparently, you're 'special' and I am not allowed to kill you. However, I can't have you following me and getting in my way either."

"What are you talking a—Ahhh!" Sam screamed as a searing pain suddenly tore through his skull. The pain was intense and would've brought him to his knees if the demon wasn't still holding him up. It was like he was having a vision, only the pain was much, much worse. Stars flashed behind his eyes and he could feel blood trickle down his nose as his eyes began to roll in the back of his head.

Sam fought to remain conscious as the demon released his hold and Sam collapsed, his body hitting the cold, icy sidewalk and instinctively curling into a foetal position. His hands flew to his head as he writhed on the ground, crying out in agony.

The demon knelt over him, "Pleasant dreams, Sam." He placed his hand on Sam's forehead and the pain in his head spiked with an intensity so fierce that Sam let out another agonizing scream as he abruptly fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

A/N Sorry for yet another cliffie. I'm evil that way. This story will take a somewhat darker turn from here on out, but hopefully not too dark. I'm trying to stay with the spirit of the show and I hope I'll succeed. Anyway, thanks for reading, now please let me know what you think. I'm trying to be the best writer I can be and I'm always trying to improve my writing so I crave the constructive criticism. To those who have read and reviewed, thank you so much. I'm sorry that I don't always reply but know that I cherish each and every one of your comments. To those who have alerted/favorited my story, thanks a bunch but if it's not too much to ask, please leave a comment. Same goes for all you lurkers out there. Anyone who has posted a story on this site knows how wonderful it is to get a review. I know it means a lot to me to get feedback. But still, it is nice to know that there are people out there who are reading this and apparently enjoying it enought to come back for more. I'll try to update again very soon. Site willing.


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